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TORRINGTONIA |
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And tho' the French fleet was so little esteem'd, And their courage and conduct despisable deem'd, To wise Herbert they plainly invincible seem'd, Which nobody can deny.
Some ships too fool-hardy did headlong engage, Which put the stout admiral in such a rage, That nought but a whore could passion asswage, Which nobody can deny.
When the shot from the enemy flying at random Slew the stout hero's dog, that could no way withstand 'em, His bitches desired their master to land 'em, Which nobody can deny.
'Twould make a man, much more a woman, agast, sir, To see a dog kill'd 'twixt the leggs of his master, Who much more deserv'd such a dismal disaster, Which nobody can deny.
Some say that he wanted both powder and ball. Be that true or false, it was certainly all One to him, whose courage was so very small, Which nobody can deny.
The Dutch at the enemy bravely did fire all, Tho' Arthur commanded the fleet to retire all, For which if he be'nt hang'd we much shou'd admire all, Which nobody can deny.
Tho' the French for a time may bluster and boast Of the honour they won by Torrington lost, Their courage will cool when our fleet's on their coast, Which nobody can deny.
Not one town of theirs, nor two, three, nor four Shall appease for the pranks they play'd on our shoar; We have admirals now that will pay off the score, Which nobody can deny.
Printed at the request of a Tarr for the diversion of the melancholly Widows of Wapping. |
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